


Ephemera, Librarian

by Jenett



Category: Rivers of London
Genre: Gen, Librarians, Libraries, Magical Theory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-30 01:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13940073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenett/pseuds/Jenett
Summary: A collection of materials found behind a desk in the Bodleian Library by one Mr Harold Postmartin.





	1. Explanatory note

**Author's Note:**

  * For [originally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/originally/gifts).



[Typewritten, date smudged.] 

Thomas, 

This sheaf of scattered papers had appparently slipped behind a desk, and we discovered it while rearranging the space. Shocking inattention to detail, there. 

You will note the letter damage to the serif on the lower case t, the upper case H, and the alignment of the upper case l, all indicative that they come from the same typewriter. These aspects do not match other documents in our files from the likely era, which suggests it was the author’s personal machine, used for correspondence and materials outside his formal duties. 

The author might be one of my predecessors, or possibly an assistant. Internal references suggest the 1930s, and there are several possibilities with A names around then. Alfred Bethany, Albert Gregson, Arthur Wilhampton-Smythe, Gregory Arbuthnot, or Frederick Atherton are the most likely. We may rule out Ambrosius Foreman, I think, due to the reference in the Rose Jar notes. 

I know you were occupied elsewhere much of that decade, but any suggestions you have that might narrow it down would be most appreciated. Even without that, I thought you and Peter might find some of the contents also of interest. 

As you can see, the surviving pages are quite a mix. A partial lecture apparently given at Casterbrook on Newton’s early life. Two partial drafts, one onNewton’s early experience with magic, the other on his interactions with his close friend of two decades, John Wickins. 

The notes on hedgemagic may be useful in your discussion with the Linden-Limmers, though I am not entirely sure how reliable they are. The final piece appears to be commentary on hiring the author’s successor. 

I did rather like the parody in the style of _1066 and All That_ which appears to be of the same lecture that is earlier in the file, but I admit a school boy’s fondness for the work. 

H.P.


	2. Lecture notes: Newton's early life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A note paperclipped to the top says “Appears to be some pages from a lecture given at Casterbrook, early in the lecture, based on other materials in our archives. Notable for the discussion of colour theory as applied to magic, which was not always included.”

will have observed the staffs of your masters, how they use them for particular magical activities. You will have spent a little time in the workrooms. 

Before Newton, that was all there was. The common folk made their little potions or dolls or carvings. Those with more resources and space created substantial magical ritual spaces, explored alchemical transformations, and summoned beings, some of whom came when called. 

Our illustrious founder, Newton, changed all that. It was he who discovered the means to take magic from a thing of the physical plane and transform it into something done with the mind and will. While we may still use physical items to anchor, strengthen, and develop magic, we are no longer reliant on the physical plane. 

Our topic today, fundamentally, is how did Newton come to do this. It is a story you will return to repeatedly during your studies. I am here to give the foundation. 

Isaac Newton was born on Christmas Eve, 1642. His father had recently died, so he was half-orphaned before he was even in this world. He grew up in Woolsthorpe, first with his mother, then after her marriage to an older wealthy man in 1646, he was raised by his grandparents. 

Beginning in 1654, he attended King’s School, in Grantham, living with the Clark family there rather than travelling each day. Clark himself was an apothecary, and it is clear from Newton’s early notebooks that this is when he began an interest in the powers of the transformation of and by physical substances. 

During this time, he kept a number of notebooks. One of those not in our collection, the Morgan Notebook, has an extensive discussion of colours, focusing particularly on the colour red. Who can tell me why that might be relevant?

Red has a strong association with protective magic in British and other folklore. It is of course, also the colour of blood. 

From materials in the collection I steward, the reason is more clear, that Newton had some sort of early interaction with a genius loci, a spirit of place. It is not entirely clear from the materials we have exactly what kind it was, but surviving information suggests a forest spirit, what may be called a Green Man. 

Whatever the specifics, Newton became very interested in the production of red paint, ink, and dye, and maintained this interest throughout his life. His rooms, once he had full say over their decoration held a tremendous amount of red. 

We have descriptions of the possessions at the end of his life including a crimson mohair bed, complete with case curtains of crimson Harrateen, a crimson settee in the dining room, crimson drapes and valances, and in fact crimson throughout his personal rooms and house whenever possible. You will notice that many of these items are large swaths of red fabric, quite possibly chosen for the abundance of red protective threads. 

He was curious from an early age, engaging in a wide range of experiments. He was fascinated by John Bate’s book The Mysteries of Nature and Art, exploring its sections on waterworks, fireworks, drawing, and chemistry. It is sometimes described as ‘the practical face of alchemy’ and that is very much the approach Newton took with it. 

Once at university, he was more drawn to his own interests than the requirements of his study, and did rather poorly on his initial exams. However, with some assistance from others, he was able to return to work on his master of arts. 

It is also about this time that his fascination with light becomes apparent. This is even before his first explicit magical experiments. He explored both the refraction of light by a prism, and he nearly did great damage to his eyes by staring at the sun, and using a knife point to observe his eye. This is why we do not do experimentation, gentlemen, and do what our masters teach us. One reason. We will come to others later. 

In 1665, Newton returned to his family home due to the increased risk of plague. Cambridge itself closed as a university for the duration. During the first stay, he focused exclusively on maths and the development of calculus, the study that he is known for among those outside our particular colleagues. 

This obsession study is a particular characteristic of his genius. He said, himself, “I keep the subject constantly before me, till the first dawnings open slowly, little by little, into the full and clear light.” 

He returned briefly to Cambridge in 1666, but then came back to Woolsthorpe until spring of 1667, and this is when he made the first significant developments in forma, and the development of lux. In my stewardship is the notebook referred to as the Light Notebook, which develops his experiments and observations about the forma itself, its stability, and structure. A copy is available in the school library for your study. 

We also suspect, but can not document, that his initial exploration of gravity was in fact also an initial exploration of impello, the movement of objects through space. 

However, he left no notes on that initial inspiration, other than the fact that the only sources for the classic story of the falling apple come from him, and he elided details in the retelling many times. When one is intimately familiar with the great man’s works and notebooks, however, the omission becomes more and more obvious and curious. 

It is not until some years later he attempted to teach this method to anyone else. We have some indications he had discussions with others. We know that he was heavily involved with the gatherings of alchemists at Ragley, a country home in Warwickshire, the home of Viscountess Conway, patron of Henry More, and the circle of alchemists and experimenters centred around Samuel Hartlib. 

It is sometimes difficult to decipher the notes about these visits, since it was common for alchemists to refer to each other by codenames and abbreviations. However, it is possible to identify a number of

[further pages are missing]


	3. Memorable Dates, addendum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A note in neat handwriting, different from the others in the collection, at the top reads “A - thought you might find this summary of your lecture amusing. 1066 and All That still most popular with boys here.”

A long time ago, people still went away to school and to university. 

One of them was named Isaac Newton. He was born in a time when there was a weak King, and then no king, and then a romantic and popular Monarch. It was very confusing and no one knew what to put on the coins. This time without a king was called the Crommonwealth.

Newton liked learning things (a Good Thing) but did not pay attention in school (a Bad Thing and one we are warned not to repeat.) 

Eventually, he went to Cambridge, where he lent people money, told them not to have fun, and learned maths. 

He was very good at learning maths once he got around to it, but that is not why we care about him. 

In 1666, which is a date that is memorable for us, but not for anyone else, he was at home because of plague. Plague is dreadful and killed many people that year, until London burned down and killed everyone anyway. 

Newton discovered that he could make light by thinking about it. 

This is the first forma and very important. He made many notes about it, but most people don’t know they exist. He used invisible ink to write them. 

This allowed for the development of modern magic, which does not require things like dead chickens, dolls, red thread, or elder trees. This is commonly considered to be a Good Thing, because collecting all those things was a lot of bother, especially when it was raining.


	4. Rose Jars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A discussion of the origin and construction of rose jars.

The question of the Rose Jars is particularly intriguing, since it clearly comes out of a very different magical tradition than our own glorious Newtonian one. 

Custom and practice teach us that the great breakthrough of Newton was, fundamentally, the movement of magical practice from the physical to the mental. 

We do still utilise tools from time to time, such as those made by the Sons of Weyland and other artisans, but we do not rely on them. Even when we do use physical assistances, they are often used to anchor or contain something, or to permit accurate placement or use, rather than being essential to the function. 

They are, in other words, more like a walking stick than a paintbrush. One is a help on a long hike, the other essential to painting. 

We men of the Folly are of course, aware of the various tales about the Société de la Rose, and the hints that the methods they chose for their magic have run back into the more physical plane, relying more heavily on items, ingredients, and physical rituals or manufacture to ensure their efficacy. 

The Rose Jars are, naturally, a fascinating example. What we know about them is rather limited, that they were introduced to the practioners of the time in 1735, when Mrs B (possible the wife of George Buckland, or perhaps a close relative). The account mentions that Mrs B provided the jar (and a replacement, when they used it) but it is clear the practitioners did not know how to create one.

It is also quite clear that teaching them how to create one was, for whatever reason, not on the table, but alas our available materials do not suggest why. If Mrs B was in fact the wife or relative of Buckland, it was clearly not personal enmity. Sources have suggested that perhaps the method itself required either the touch of a woman, or perhaps specific ancestry to learn, but both of these seem prepostrous, that there would be magics that our far more rigorously trained practioners (even in that rather more relaxed era) could not adopt. 

The name, of course, is quite suggestive, and equally, not at all clear about why they are reffered to as Rose Jars. Various theories have been suggested, both the link to the Société de la Rose, and to roses as an ingredient. 

Roses are, naturally, widely used in hedgemagic, having as they do both attractive qualities and enforcement of boundaries, via the prickles. There are, in our collection, numerous monographs on the folk traditions of protective or boundary magics (often also citing yew bushes, and other thorned bushes such as blackberries or raspberries or more generic brambles.) 

Mrs B is described as a creole woman in a number of sources, and it is hypothesised that the ghost jar technique may well have been a practice of people from outside Europe. That said, witch bottles were in use in England by the early 16th century, and the Rose Jar is described in a somewhat similar way: a jar that serves to attract a particular kind of energy and trap it. 

Classic witch bottles routinely included nails, often rusted and bent, sometimes items such as glass or mirror shards, tangles of thread. In many sources, boiling is advised to purify, then the items are added to the bottle along with bodily fluids such as semen or blood. The bottle was then corked and buried in a suitable location, where it was thought to trap all evil magics aimed at the individual or household whose items were included. It is easy to see the logical jump to a jar for ghosts or spirits. 

There are also some hints in other older and non-European sources. We have not had a suitable researcher fluent in the necessary dialects of Arabic able to investigate several otherwise promising lines of theory that date to the 8th to 12th centuries. There is some evidence that some techniques particularly related to roses, jasmine, and saffron, may have been brought back with other information during Europe’s darker ages. Alas, these resources are currently effectively unavailable. 

Flowers of Intent, the treatise by Morton Rambling, suggests that roses have associations with life, death, and protection, making them a particularly potent focus for a ghost jar. 

Alamand, in his seminal work on creating magical devices, Partum Magicae, hypothesises that man-made artifacts have greater accuracy and nuance, because organic ingredients bring an unpredictable mix of inherent properties. Some roses are more rose than others, as it were. 

There are also the various references in the County Practitioner notebooks (detailed references may be found at the conclusion of this paper) that indicate the significant use of flowers and other botanical material by a wide range of parties. It is informative to discuss the patterns found therein, which we may do thanks to the detailed indexing work of Ambrosius Foreman. 

[further pages, if any, are not present]


	5. Initiating Experiences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A handwritten note attached to the top reads:
> 
> “Thomas - this and the next may be part of the same larger work or different articles. Obviously, a number of pages are missing. HP”

The initiating moment for Newton’s exploration of magic is frustratingly unclear. Newton kept numerous notebooks from an early age, but even in the much expanded collection housed at the Bodleian, there are significant gaps. The Light Notebook offers essential early information about his development of the first forma, but it does not discuss the actual initiating experience. 

Past scholars have had various ideas. The Parmington Theory and its proponents argue that Newton must have had some sort of discourse with a hedgemage of some kind, possibly staff on his family estate. The Cleming proponents suggest that it might have been Clark himself, since the man clearly had a significant interest in alchemical principles, and spent extensive time encouraging Newton’s learning in related areas. 

However, as Bothy Milton points out, Newton’s own materials make clear that Clark’s support was access to books and materials, rather than direct teaching. It is possible Newton underplayed the role Clark had, of course. 

We do know that in 1658, Newton was removed from the King’s School and returned home to the family property, his mother intending for him to take responsibilty for the farm, and that Newton did everything he could to avoid that work. 

For those familiar with the demi-monde and their fellows, it is suggestive that he may have had some unexpected encounter in the farmland, and wanted to retreat from it. It would not have suited his rather rigid view of the world or his interests at the time, and it might have taken him quite some time to integrate this new information into his view of the world. 

We cannot forget the aspect of vestigia. At the time, King’s School was about 120 years old in its contemporary incarnation, certainly long enough to imbue the buildings with a certain amount of vestigia. From our own schooldays, however, we know that there is a particular feel to schoolboy vestigia, that it is certainly noticeable, but not, perhaps, as differentiated or articulated as places with more varied experience and manner of people. 

It is entirely possible, therefore, that Newton may not have realised what he was sensing until he was in a place with significantly longer and more varied history, such as Cambridge. 

Discussion with fellow scholars also brings up the question of ghosts. King’s School had been re-endowed in 1528, so there was sufficient time for a build-up of vestigia, as above, but there are no significant ghost stories associated with the school in that time period. A former hostel, now an inn, in Grantham does have stories of a typical White Lady who wanders the halls. 

Another possibility is in 1662. His surviving journals make it clear he had some experience in that year which had him examining his sins in a detailed list. Perhaps the cause was an encounter with a being he might have thought a false god, demon, or another figure to be shunned and feared, which might fit the image of a Green Man or something equivalent.


	6. Wickins, John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A note clipped to the top notes "Will see if I can find additional materials related to this for Dr Walid's research. HP"

One puzzling detail for non-practitioner histories of Newton is the question of why and how Newton fell out with John Wickins, who shared rooms with Newton for almost two decades, acting as his assistant, particularly with telescopes and optic lenses. 

It is known they separated under a cloud, and other than a very brief exchange many years later, they do not seem to have had even the most rudimentary interactions except for a gift of Bibles Newton made to the parish when they were both quite elderly. 

Wickins had a son, who made it clear that his father had considered writing up some comments, but had very little material other than distant memories to work from, only a handful of papers and exchanges.  
The question of what lead to the falling out is, of course, a matter of great curiousity for historians of our particular community, such as we are. 

Wickins left Cambridge in 1683, but every indication is that it was also a fracturing of the friendship. Wickins is known to have been exceedingly tolerant of Newton’s experiments, such as living for an extended time with the rooms entirely dark when Newton was investigating prisms, and with Newton’s often erratic attention to food, sleep, and personal matters. 

What then, could have broken such a close connection, with Newton’s longest and closest friend? The traditional answer among conventional historians is that Newton was deeply upset by Wickins deciding to marry, retire to the country as clergyman in an undistinguished parish, and have children. 

We know, however, that practitioners who engage frequently in the practice of magic can suffer what was previously called apoplexy, and currently is sometimes referred to in the medical literature as cerebral vascular accident or CVA.

The causes are not clear, and of course there were many other possible causes for the condition in Newton’s time, but a thorough investigation might indicate that Wickins either wished to avoid such a fate himself, or was concerned by Newton’s exhaustive methods of research and investigation harming others.

We know from Newton’s commentary and those of his contemporaries that he did not consider risk to the researcher to be a cause for particular concern (c.f. his experiments of 1664, which Wickins would have been entirely aware of as they were sharing rooms by that time.) And yet, the sudden and complete break does suggest some new concern, action, or cause beyond Newton’s general disregard for his physical form. 

The triggering event is, therefore, most likely to date from 1682 or 1683, though it may have been a pattern of events that Wickins felt he could no longer ignore that began earlier. 

Details to confirm  
\- Known associates of Newton who may potentially have been learning forma, their cause and date of death, and other comments.

\- Investigation of other suspicious deaths in the relevant years (c. 1666 to 1683, when Wickins married) in their larger circle, including Ragley. 

\- Review Precautions and Considerations, teaching manual, Casterbrook, and cross-reference warning signs of possible issues of concern when teaching formae.


	7. Candidate considerations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This letter is unsigned, and appears to be a working draft, focusing on qualities for candidates to fill the incumbent's position as Special Collections librarian.

Distinguished members of the society, 

I have been asked to write a short commentary on the proper skills and duties to be considered for my succcessor here. I appreciate the opportunity to state the needs of the collection clearly. 

Traditionally, there have been three people charged with managing materials relating to the Folly and its practices. Most commonly, one has lived at the Folly and managed the three libraries there, along with various clerical assistance as required, one has managed the collection at Casterbrook, and one has worked here at Oxford with materials that need additional resources due to age, rarity, materials, or other considerations such as being donated to the University but highly relevant to our interests. It is strongly preferred that the three be able to collaborate regularly, to maintain the strengths of the relevant collections and share scarce resources sensibly. 

The librarian at the Folly is normally a member of the Society of Practitioners himself, in good standing, but historically often not able to engage in activity in the field. The library at Casterbrook is under the guidance of a teaching master, also a practitioner, who manages the collection with an eye to the needs of teaching staff and students, sending older titles to Oxford or London as appropriate. 

The role here, however, has traditionally not been filled by a practitioner, but instead by someone who has been able to devote the time and effort to extensive language learning, as well as relevant library, preservation, and archival skills, in a way that is often not possible for active practitioners. It is also useful to have someone who can move actively in society seeking magical texts who will not be read as a practitioner by others in the magical community, and who will not be overly distracted by the vestigia inherent in a library of the Bodleian’s age and size. 

I continue to recommend this approach in your consideration of my successor. 

Likewise, it is important for whoever receives the appointment to be able to interact with other staff at the Bodleian from a position of mutual respect and educational attainment. I need scarcely remind our established members of the unfortunate case, some twenty years ago, when a young man was appointed who was a talented researcher, but whose education was entirely in private settings. 

He faced an insurmountable obstacle to being included in conversations and investigations of critical materials donated to the collection during that time, and it did damage both to our resources and opportunities. 

It will be particularly important to have a strong advocate for the collection with the moves of other portions of the library collection and the coming construction of the New Bodleian building. On that note, Edmund Craster, current Bodley Librarian, is a Balliol man, also a fellow at All Souls, with a particular interest in both history and foreign policy. The right sort of man for the position would be able to speak socially with Craster and engage his interests, without sharing those details of our collection that are best kept confidential. 

There is an increasing move, beginning in about 1919 and continuing through the following decade and into this one, for greater requirements on education for librarians, but at this point, there is no absolute requirement. Allow me, however, to lay out the differences.

Some library staff have undertaken the Library Association examinations, which focus extensively on practice in libraries. These generally are tracked into positions in public libraries, rather than academic or research libraries, and would not be suitable for the Society’s larger goals and purposes. 

Others attend a professional education program, most notably that offered through the University of London, a two-year certificate program that leads to a Diploma of University College. These candidates are most suitable for an academic library position, such as mine, but the educational process focuses on theory over library practice. A suitable candidate should have a D.Phil or at least a Master’s in a relevant subject area. History, literature, or languages are all relevant, though science is not disqualifying for someone who meets the other criteria. 

Naturally, such matters as circulation are not a particular concern of our collection, but a suitable candidate for my position should be well-versed in preservation techniques, current archival practices, and also (as necessary) trained in the necessary skills for managing magical manuscripts. The last can be easily handled by colleagues in the Society, but the first two require significant hands-on experience. 

Professional colleagues at the British Museum Library have run periodic summer and short courses that cover some of these topics in adequate depth. I have included the prospectus for those likely to fit the hiring timeline with this letter. At any rate, it is preferred that a candidate have some grounding in the core skills, and expertise in at least two or three. Someone nearer the middle of his career would be preferred, for a suitable mix of experience and potential longevity in the position.

A final consideration should be given to the languages mastered. Latin, of a certainty, and to a high degree of fluency, including with post-medieval and non-liturgical use of the language. I have prepared a sample examination that may be used to assess the standard of knowledge, and am glad to proctor same once candidates are identified or provide the materials to another suitable proctor. 

German remains a language of extensive use, and fluency in it is also essential, but French, Russian, Arabic, and Italian also remain of particular interest, and I urge you not to consider any candidate who could not count at least two to his credit. Attic Greek is not used often in our texts itself, but a working knowledge is of great use in research in the materials we steward. Languages of the Indian subcontinent, Chinese, or Japanese would be an intriguing addition, but not at the cost of those more thoroughly a part of the working collection. 

Beyond that, the role requires the skills of anyone doing detailed work in a solitary setting. The ideal candidate will be comfortable working at length alone, or with few others around, in a small office space, and with the restrictions on what may be brought into the building common to the Bodleian. The hours are not overly demanding but do require balancing between the needs of the Society of Practitioners and other tasks that fall under the aegis of Special Collections. 

I would be glad to visit and discuss examples of the work in greater detail, so that you may make your selections appropriately, or to invite a select group to visit here and review materials in the library.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for a lovely prompt giving me a great excuse to explore both libraries and magical theory! A few notes for the curious: 
> 
> \- _Isaac Newton: The Last Sorcerer_ by Michael White was most intriguing as to some of the details of Newton's early life and fascination with things beyond pure science. Most of the details in the essays about him come from that work, including his fascination with red, the gaps in his notebooks, and his reading material, education, and sometimes damaging experiments. 
> 
> \- [_1066 and All That_ is a humourous history from the British perspective](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1066_and_All_That) published as a book in the 1930s. Several things in that section (Good Thing, Good and Bad Kings, Crommonwealth, etc.) come from the source itself. 
> 
> \- Rose jars are mentioned in the book canon ( _The Furthest Station_ ) but I also drew on the historical aside in _Body Work #3_. 
> 
> \- Edmund Craster was indeed the head of the Bodleian in the 1930s (until 1945, when he was knighted).


End file.
